


A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away (I Crashed A Dart And I Survived)

by Itar94



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Stargate Atlantis
Genre: BAMF John Sheppard, Canonical Character Death, Crack Treated Somewhat Seriously, Crossover, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Droids, F/M, I'm sorry but it follows the plot of TFA and that includes Han, Impossible Science, Jakku, John Sheppard Has A Bad Day, John Sheppard is a Huge Nerd, M/M, Mild Language, Pilots, Poe's Jacket, Spaceships, This a PSA not to go to Jakku, guess how many times I mention space in this fic?, humor verging on crack, pairings are hinted at rather than explicit, the team is tight and protective but only function as cameos in this fic, this IS crack!fic I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 11:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8487439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itar94/pseuds/Itar94
Summary: ... a guide by Lt Col John Sheppard.John ends up in the wrong galaxy and meets another pilot who can fly anything. Then he returns with a robot.(Yeah, that’s … pretty much the plot.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> _Hi there! So, I watched (again) The Force Awakens the other day, and I wondered – just how did Poe get off Jakku and back to the Resistance? Sure there are canon explanations, but here’s another one. I’ve been writing almost exclusively Stargate Atlantis for the past few weeks. And so … this story was born. (I’ve also never written Star Wars before, so I hope it’s OK)._   
>  _I’ll get back to my various WIPs in a sec; I just needed to get this story out of my system. Please enjoy!_

This is not a Good Day.

That’s the short version of how he ended up here. The longer version ...

First: an ass-boring long briefing which didn’t really turn out to give much information about anything, wherein Rodney drank _his_ coffee and stole _his_ muffin (hey, that was from the last batch and the Daedalus won’t be resupplying for another _two months_ , damn it!).

Second: Wraith. The mission to P5X-whatsit turned out shit after approximately five minutes. Folks were nice enough, sharing spicy tea and stories and granting an audience with their boss/chief/overlord, and they were on their way to sign a treaty to get them some not-potatoes (a welcome respite from MREs) and then, of course, a Wraith scout ship turned up. A Hive not far behind.

Third: The bright light of being beamed aboard; last thing he saw of P5X-298, and, more importantly, the last thing he actually saw of his team, spread out weapons raised and Rodney had looked his way, his face comically pale and panicked. And then John came to in a cell with a huge headache without any pleasant buzz beforehand.

He broke out (thanks for showing how to throw knives very efficiently, Ronon!). Stole a Dart. Efficient, almost too easy, which – of course it was. The Dart was shot at. The Dart was hit. John was thrown forward, probably hit his head on the console, and blacked out for a second time that day. (The docs back in Atlantis will be furious. Already complaining that he’s hitting his head ten times more than what’s healthy on a daily basis.) Woke up – thankfully without amnesia or brain damage or anything of the sort – to find that the Dart’s navigational computer couldn’t recognize where they were and simply floating around without trajectory or course, caught in the gravity well of some nearby structure of spacetime. No sign of anything recognizable: no Hive (that’s good), no P5X-928 (less good), no Stargate (not good at all). And the stars … the stars were all **wrong.**

And John had said: “Fuck.”

Eloquent and succinct.

There’s a planet, though, the Dart caught by its gravity. Less than half an hour away at top speed and the engine ~~should~~ **will** make it and, really, what choice has he got? There’s no comms, nav computer’s out, limited lifesupport and he’s got no supplies or weapons (other than the handy knife) or _anything_. So, toward the planet he goes.

The team has better be okay.

* * *

It’s a desert. It’s … a huge fucking desert.

Most planets have some variety. Much like Earth, there are places of forests but also tundra and ice and oceans and …

This is one fucking big desert.

He lands (crashes. technically it’s a _controlled_ _crash landing_ ) and tries to put down the Dart somewhere near the outskirts of what the scans indicated might be some kind of structure. Possibly technology like houses. Possibly civilization. But he ends up miles off-target and without a map or directions. Climbing out of the open canopy of the ruined Dart, John stares bleakly across the vast empty sandy sandy horizon and sighs. Then he thinks: _Well, it could be worse. Probably._ And: _Hey, I’ve been forty-eight thousand years to the future and back and I made it fine._

So. It could be worse.

Of course it could be.

(Note to self: Do not ever think or say or mention 'it could be worse' in any variation or form. It will make things worse.)

* * *

The wind is starkly hot. He wears his aviators and uses his jacket trying to get some shade. His footsteps create a long trail from the still smoking landing site but is slowly being covered up by sand.

There’s a sun. Just one. He decides, for the sake of simplicity, that the sun is to the north. Because that makes, you know, sense. And with the lazily circling overhead he’s headed south-west toward what he hopes might be some kind of settlement.

He tries several frequencies on the radio, but receives mostly static and silence. What’s the range of these things again? And – shit, this is the wrong planet and the wrong system and if this is the wrong _galaxy_ , John wants to hit something. Hard. Repeatedly.

* * *

Once he gets back in the City, he’ll make an extra survivor’s course obligatory. Title: _How Not To Crash Darts On Desert Planets And Get Lost._ Yeah. Or, perhaps: _A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away (I Crashed A Dart And I Survived)._ Subtitle: _A Guide by Lt Col John Sheppard, USAF, SGC, Space-Traveler Extraordinaire & Pilot Who Can Fly Anything_.

A PowerPoint-presentation, with pictures, easy to follow. Bullet points. Something like this:

 _Step 1:_ Go through the Gate.

 _Step 2:_  If/when Wraith appear, don’t get captured/culled/eaten/shot/killed horribly.

 _Step 3:_ (work in progress) 

* * *

Is that smoke?

Something is falling from the sky.

That _is_ smoke. And that’s an explosion, on the other side of the dune. He feels the faint boom and the ground rattling underfoot.

That’s … _Ah. Shit._

It’s another fucking _ship_ that’s fucking _crashed_ and, what is this, the Bermuda Triangle of Space?

John is fucking thirsty.

* * *

“Hello?”

Nobody home. Huh. Odd. The design of the ship is weirdly familiar. John circles it once or twice, then makes a double take. Because – hell. That’s a TIE-fighter. He doesn’t need to be a hardcore fan to know what a TIE-fighter looks like even if there are some modifications to the original, and –

“Hey! Hey, you okay?”

Someone. In the cockpit. John’s rushing (stumbling) forward through the heavy sand before he stops, abruptly, thinking: _Stormtrooper? They’re the Bad Guys. And I’m a Good Guy, aren’t I? And I haven’t got a gun. What if they’ve got a gun?_

And then he thinks _: Shit, never mind - they always miss anyway._

* * *

Turns out the guy he pulls out of the wrecked cockpit isn’t a Stormtrooper. Doesn’t look like one, anyway. Battered and bruised but still alive, the guy – mid-twenties to thirties, maybe, dark windswept hair, brown eyes – looks at him and says, dazed (understandably so): “You’re not Finn.”

At least it’s English and John is so relieved because this = viable communications = possibility of help (?) or at least he won’t die alone in the Giant Fucking Desert That Isn’t Tatooine. (Yay!)

“Uh, no,” John says, warily, as the guy looks around, a bit like a lost puppy searching for a second lost puppy.

Then the guy sobers.

Ah, the second lost puppy might be dead. _Shit_. John is not in the mood to play therapist.

“So. How did you end up in a crashed TIE-fighter?” John aims for casual, helping the guy limp to the side. Some of the sand is treacherously soft and sinkable, and the last thing either of them needs is to get stuck in some put of quicksand and die horribly and slowly.

The guy frowns at him. “You’re not with the First Order.”

Uh. First of whatnow? “Nope. Air Force.”

“Air Force? Is that a pilot thing? It sounds like a pilot thing. I’m a pilot,” the guy says, and offers a hand kind of awkwardly. “I’m Poe.”

“Nice to meet you, pilot Poe,” John shakes the hand, and Poe smiles a bit, as if relieved and maybe a bit freaked out about the whole Crashing Thing. “I’m John.”

He’s got a gut feeling that they’re going to get along just fine.

* * *

The name of the planet they’re on is, apparently, Jakku. And yes, it’s a Giant Desert and, yes, Poe knows the name because he aimed for the planet, as opposed to John who just ended up here by pure mistake. Poe clams up about the reason he’s here – the real reason – so John assumes some kind of special ops deal, very hush hush. He knows all about working under Very Hush Hush-conditions, and doesn’t probe.

The other person Poe was with – Finn – rescued him from a starship full of Bad Guys and they’re apparently part of this First Order and John nods along as the guy explains this.

Bad day.

“How did you end up here, then?” Poe asks.

John shrugs and sighs, tiredly. His throat is parched. “Got myself taken by the Wraith, taken aboard a Hive, broke out from the cell, stole a Dart, got shot at, crashed the Dart.”

Poe nods along. Nods a bit more.

Finally, they both ask simultaneously:

“What’s the First Order?”

and:

“What in the galaxy are the Wraith?”

* * *

The year is something-something since the Empire fell and, oh, some kind of Darth Vader Wannabe is running rampant in the Known Galaxy followed by a lot (a huge fucking lot) of Stormtroopers and maybe following in turn some Supreme Leader á là the Emperor. And Poe is now here on a Secret Mission for the Resistance a.k.a the Rebellion, and there’s something about a droid (that is orange and one of a kind) gone missing, carrying vital information. Oh, and this Finn fellow is a not-Stormtrooper who defected, essentially, by breaking Poe out and stealing a TIE-fighter with him and they got shot down and, yeah, a whole bunch of Stormtroopers are probably already on their way with laser guns to hunt them down.

Awesome.

John nearly laughs. Would have, if his throat wasn’t this damned dry. “At least they never hit the target,” he quips. Then amends: “Mostly.” Because they still crashed thanks to some spacegun shooting spacelasers at their spaceship.

“Finn pulled his emergency chute.” Poe chews his bottom lip. “I saw him disappear.”

Poe sounds worried and upset for his new friend (boyfriend?), and John pats his shoulder because it’s the right thing to do. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

* * *

The sun has set, and instead of boiling the temperature has now dropped below zero and they’re both subtly shivering and trying not to show it. Poe suggest they share warmth by huddling up close and John is generally not a touchy-feely guy and prefers to stay very far from anyone who isn’t team, but who knows how far from home he is – a galaxy far fucking far away – and Poe is kind of warm.

They try to share the jacket like a blanket and get some rest.

Poe hogs the jacket. John tells him to get his own.

Poe is downcast. “I forgot it in the TIE,” he sighs.

He sounds very sad about the jacket, somewhat _too_ sad; a bit like Rodney when his favourite laptop runs out of battery charge (except Rodney is much more aggressive in his moping and generally tends to yell at people in those situations so the comparison isn’t really fair.)

John tries to sleep for a bit and _not_ think about how much he misses Atlantis and his team.

Or cuddle into Poe who is very very warm and stealing his jacket. Lt Colonel John Sheppard is a man who _does not_ cuddle (except with Rodney but no one has to know that).

* * *

They wake up with the dawn. The Wraith took his TAC vest along with his P90 and handgun, but he’s still got a crushed powerbar in his jacket pocket, and they share this. Poe says it’s pretty good. For a moment John worries about Earth germs and bacterial cultures and whatnot – the rules from the SGC to be careful when sharing food with non-Tau’ri come to mind – but shrugs the thought off, since neither of them throws up. After this very meagre breakfast, they keep on trudging through the sand. At a distance, John sees the shadows of something that might be a ship graveyard. Is that a _Destroyer?_

Yeah. Bermuda Triangle of Space.

They mostly don’t talk. When they do, they talk about pilot things like ships. Poe has flown a lot of spaceships and says he can fly anything. John counters that he’s flown choppers, fighter jets, spaceships, _and_ whole fucking _cities_ with his mind, and Poe doesn’t seem to believe him.

Once they get out of this mess, John promises to take him for a Jumper ride, because that’s the sweetest thing there is. In return, Poe might show him his X-Wing, and John _totally does not_ have a spontaneous fangasm at the mere thought.

* * *

“… BB-8 is the best droid a man can ask for. He’s saved my life more than once, you know. He’s witty, too.”

BB-8 is the droid Poe is looking for. John figures it’s sort of like Poe’s dog, but with a bit of a temper and the ability to hack into enemy base computers and other stuff like that.

Once he gets back to Atlantis, John is going to make Rodney build him a droid. Sounds like they may come in handy.

Once he gets back.

 _When_ he gets back.

Was it a malfunctioning wormhole? Except there was no Gate in the vicinity … What else could have transported the Dart with him in it to another galaxy? or reality? or wherever this is? (Disneyland in space?)

John will sleep on the problem. As soon as he’s able to get some more sleep.

* * *

Jakku is a planet. Planets are round. Round things don’t have an edge.

The point is, if they’ve gotten turned around at the wrong place, they’re going to thirst to death long before stumbling across a watering hole and that’ll be the end of the story, and John seriously doesn’t want to go that way. There should _at least_ be an explosion. A cool one. Like fireworks. Very heroic and all that. But, mostly, he Does Not Want To Die.

The desert _does_ have an edge, eventually, which they reach after fifteen hours and fifty-six minutes (according to John’s digital wristwatch which, for some reason, the Wraith never confiscated. Probably don’t know what it is. All the times he’s been aboard a Hive, by will or force, John has never actually see anything like a watch or way to measure time. Maybe to Wraith time is irrelevant, with the whole Ability to Live Forever If Well-Fed thing).

The houses are generally one-story huts with sloping sandy walls and the streets are wide, full of people – humans, aliens, various creatures. So much noise and movement after the stillness of the desert. Voices are talking in a multitude of languages and they’re not translating so, John figures, the Gate translation matrix isn’t in effect, though he can understand Poe who claims to be talking in Galactic Standard which is, apparently, Standard American English. Who knew, huh.

John tries to act casual and Not Distracted By The Aliens. Which is easier said than done. He might be well-versed in Gate travel and been to like five hundred planets in his lifetime, but he’s mostly met humans out there, like the Athosians and Satedans and the Travelers. The aliens include Wraith (who want to eat him) and one Asgard (who didn’t want to eat him but Hermiod is still pretty creepy) so, yeah, John doesn’t have the best track record of Close Encounters Of The Third Kind.

The town – village? - has this central plaza full of shopping stalls. For some reason, some of them are smoking as if by fire that’s just recently been put out. Poe grins prettily at the elderly lady in one of them and asks for directions. The old lady is unamused, but points them toward the spaceport. SPACEPORT.

* * *

There is, naturally, a bar. What spaceport is complete without a spacebar?

The bar even has its own band. (What spacebar is complete without a spaceband?)

John is almost ready to plead for water at this point, and is so so fucking glad when the bar owner (a Rhodian, with huge dark eyes and green skin and antennae atop their head) accepts the credit chips Poe digs out of his left boot. The water tastes awful, but the beer which follows (spacebeer!) is all right. They find an alcove booth with a nice view of the crowded bar, and John tries not to sway too much with the Space Jazz Music, and instead chill and channel his inner Han Solo.

Now that they are best buddies and all, John figures it’s best he sticks with Poe and works his way off Jakku alongside him. After they find the droid, that is.

Too late.

Through the chatter all around them (Poe speaks a number of different alien languages besides Standard well enough to pick up snatches of conversation), they hear that, just yesterday, there was a droid here at Niima Outpost (that’s where they are) chased by folks in white armour and they were kind of pissed off. Oh, and there was a girl with the droid, and some guy in a brown and red jacket. The Troublesome Two and the droid proceeded to steal a ship from a junkyard owned by the supposedly infamous Unkar Plutt and are not on Jakku anymore.

And from the way Poe blinks and smiles with delight – and possibly relief - John figures that this might be good news. Sort of.

* * *

They need a ship.

Now, John wants to think of himself as a somewhat honest citizen. Then he recalls all of the ships and choppers he’s commandeered in his life, and, what the hell. _Let’s go for this._

They execute it as a careful, well-planned manouver – that is to say, they jump a two-man Stormtrooper patrol and John knocks one of them out with a stick (thanks for all the _banto’a_ lessons, Teyla!) and Poe downs the other with a nice swing. Then they take their armours (ill-fitting and, wow, you really can’t see _shit_ in these helmets and the Heads-Up-Display is more like How-Useless-Display) and, whistling, they walk their way through Niima Outpost to the junkyard owned by Unkar Plutt (and John nearly winces when spotting the angry potato-like flat face which only makes him think of the Sontarans of _Doctor Who_ , and Rodney would be proud of that reference).

Needless to say, Unkar Plutt needs to get himself another ship after that if he ever intends to leave Jakku.

* * *

The eighty-year-old Trandoshan freighter is rusty and at half-tank but there’s a hyperdrive which is _sort of_ functioning.

John’s been around Rodney enough to get the hang of fixing various systems, both Terran and Ancient and Wraith in origin, but for once feels stumped because this is a curious mix of high-tech space stuff and yet reminiscent of the spirit of 1970’s sci-fi and, no, he _does_ _not_ nerdgasm when Poe sorts out the thermal regulator thingy with the spanner thingy and they can jump to lightspeed.

Well, he’s always wanted to be Han Solo.

(Rodney’s going to be _so_ jealous when he gets back to tell this story.)

* * *

The Resistance – which is the Rebellion 2.0 – is located on a planet called D’Qar, far out in the Outer Rim in the Ileenium system (far far away from the center of the crumbling Republic), and Poe suggests he take the freighter from there, once they’ve fixed her up, back to wherever he’s headed. Which is … an issue. Because John has no idea where this galaxy is in relation to his own, and even if he did there’s no way he could return to Atlantis without a Stargate, or a ZPM-powered ship without the trip taking half a century. 

So he sticks around to help out. Because that’s the right thing to do.

The journey takes only a few hours, and he lets Poe handle the talking to get them past the sentries and not shot down, mistaken for pirates or spies or whatever. It works. The people on the other side sound relieved, and greet Poe like an old friend. Oh, and his whole name is Poe Dameron. Since it’s only fair, John introduces himself properly.

And the person on the other side of the comms is none other than _General Leia Organa,_ and – nope, not fangasming.

This is definitely some pseudo _Star Wars_ future, John decides as they land and the ramp lowers and there’s an elderly woman with her long grey hair tied up in a complex bun, and she greets Poe stoically like a worried mother hen who is desperate not to be too much of a mother hen to be overwhelming. Poe is upset. He’s lost his droid, and there was some vital information on it to find none other than _Luke_ fucking _Skywalker_.

If this is a vivid vivid dream and he’s in reality in a coma floating around in a damaged Dart in space, or stuck in the infirmary aboard Atlantis, or a cocoon on the Hive – it’s a kind of awesome dream. In a very sickly twisted way.

(If it were a dream there would be some amazingly hot sex with Rodney. Aboard the Millennium Falcon. Because _awesome_.)

So, he decides, it’s not a dream. Yet.

_Come on, John, pull yourself together!_

“ … crashed the TIE, but then I met John here, who had crash landed not long before. He pulled me out of the TIE. We got off the planet together,” Poe is explaining.

He puts on his best most charming Greeting the Natives-smile and descends the open ramp. Both he and Poe have dumped the Stormtrooper armour. D’Qar is temperate, with a soaring blue sky overhead and a thrumming frantic activity on the ground. The base is full of people, hundreds of them, and their rebellion gear is definitely much like the original movies and, wow. Wow.

There are also droids. John fights the urge to poke at them, and instead faces General Organa.

“Hi.” Snaps a salute, because, hey. She’s a General and a Princess and all.

“Hello,” the General says, with a gentle smile. Wow. Wow. “I hear I have to thank you for brining Poe back to us.”

“Uh, no big deal,” John says, not fainting but almost. “Actually, General, he saved me, because I would’ve gotten lost and died in that desert if I hadn’t seen the ship crash. We’re even.”

“You’re not from Jakku, then?”

“Not really ...”

* * *

Then, after only, like, sixteen minutes, there’s a distress call. One of their contacts on another planet – Takodana – has seen the missing droid. Oh, and there’s a bunch of First Order ships on their way probably intent to steal the droid and then blow Takodana to kingdom come. Poe is at it at once, rushing toward his fighter, gearing up and John seeks out General Organa, who’s boarding a larger ship.

Seems like they’re all going.

“General, I can help,” he says. “I’m a pilot.”

She surveys him for a minute, deciding. Then she nods, and asks the golden droid next to her – C3PO has _the exact same voice_ as John remembers him to have – about whether they have any unmanned ships. And C3PO reports that they currently possess one older X-Wing from the original Rebellion, repaired and ready to go but no one to fill the seat. Until now.

With the Resistance, saving one of theirs goes a long way. (Like with Atlantis, it seems.)

The controls are alien yet familiar, easy to work out. Because John can fly anything too, damn it. Even if it’s weird to fly something that can’t read his thoughts, isn’t that attuned. But – wow. An _X-Wing._ A real proper X-Wing. And he gets to wear the iconic red flight suit and the helmet. And they get him a droid. A _droid_.

 _Wow_.

He’s not going to get so distracted that he crashes, though. Honest.

* * *

The droid is a R2-model and the readouts of what it’s saying on the screen in the cockpit indicates that its name is R9-D1, and it’s got a nice blue colour like the chevrons of the Gate, with trimmings gleaming in silver. The trip at lightspeed (technically _faster_ than light, but John sticks with the jargon) takes some twenty minutes, and R9-D1 is a pretty talkative droid. Beeping up there in vacuum where there’s no sound. The translator works hard and fast to keep up.

Well, there’s no better way to learn the ins-and-outs of an X-Wing’s functions than from an enthusiastic droid, he guesses.

* * *

They drop out of hyperspace and into a battle over a rich jungle world with a glittering lake and a beach with a temple built from stone on it, and that’s where the BB-droid is meant to be. A lot of the place is in ruins already, bombed from afar, and there are TIE-fighters in the air, and Stormtroopers on the ground running around firing lasers. Streaks of blue and red light. The comms are full of the usual chatter.

Poe is leading the Red Wings, and John falls into the routine – this time as Red Nine – as easily as breathing, and realizes that there’s something about ship-to-ship battles that he’s missed. The X-Wing is less bulky than a Jumper, more manoeuvrable in tight quarters, and somehow it feels like cheating, thinking like that because Jumper One will _definitely_ know that he’s been flying something else next time he sits in the pilot’s chair.

There: before the ruined castle, a number of Stormtroopers are gathered in a circle around some prisoners. Can’t see clearly from here who or how many, but they’re either civilians or Resistance. John follows Poe’s lead, diving low and sweeping over them, and fires in brief sharp bursts. Dirt and bodies fly through the air. Fire. Explosions. All that one can ask for in a fight like this. The Stormtroopers scatter, and the prisoners break free.

The battle is fast-paced. Orders shared. The General is a few minutes behind in another craft, along with the droid and several others, and they want to clear the area before they get here. The radios full of voices:

_“Red Eight to Leader, we’ve got incoming!”_

_“I see them!”_

_“On your left!”_

_“Pull up, pull up!”_

_“Blue Five - I’ve got two behind me, I can’t shake ‘em!”_

“Blue Five, this is Red Nine, I’ve got you,” John responds, steering the X-Wing back around and takes out one TIE after the other.

 _“Thanks, Red Nine, I owe you for that one,”_ Blue Five says. John reminds himself to find out their names after they’ve landed. Maybe share a spacebeer. Have they got that at their fancy base on D’Qar?

“No problem.”

Another sweep, low over the ground. Is that a _lightsaber?_ Sure looks like one of the guys on the ground is swinging one around. Very blue. Nice.

Most of the place is in tatters, but the Stormtroopers are retreating. One of their larger ships is getting away, and they’ve got shields strong enough to withstand the fire from an X-Wing. They’re ordered to turn back around and escort General Organa to the surface, and John meets the rest of the squad in upper atmo. Some of them are cheering and whooping at the success of not losing a single pilot today.

* * *

The landing is a surprisingly quiet affair.

The woods are silent, and the temple (or castle, or fort, or whatever it was) now a jumble of rock, broken statues, and the remains of what used to be a bar. Survivors are being dug out. Some hid in the woods. John finds a spot to park, and climbs out of the cockpit. The machinery lowers R9-D1 onto the ground, and John pats its dome. “Nice work, buddy.”

He wishes he could understand the beeping he receives in return. The swivelling dome seems enthusiastic and happy enough, so he takes that as a _You too/You’re welcome._

The General’s ship opens, and John watches from a distance as she walks out to greet – hey, is that …?

_Oh my god. Ohmygod._

That’s _Han Solo._ He’s old, granted, like Leia. But. Holy fucking _shit._ It’s the same gun and holster and jacket and _everything_.

“You changed your hair,” Han Solo says in greeting.

General Organa doesn’t seem overly impressed. “Same jacket,” she remarks.

“No, new jacket,” Han Solo defends himself.

Okay, the two of them are kind of adorable. No, John did not just think that. Aloud.

And _Chewbacca_. The Wookie is even taller in real life. He’s not sure if he can refer to Ronon as Chewie anymore after this. Would it be quite fair?

There’s another guy, too, the one with the blue lightsaber, and he doesn’t really look like a Jedi, there’s no flaring robe or anything, but this is the future so maybe the Jedi have come to their senses regarding terribly impractical fashion choices. Or, since Luke Skywalker is missing and this First Order is at large, the Jedi are pretty much extinct and the thought is surprisingly sombre and disheartening. John has been a firm believer in the Happy Ending after the _Return of the Jedi,_ after all.

The not-Jedi - wearing a jacket with red trim on the shoulders, bleached by sunlight - is followed by a droid which is round like a ball, rolling over the uneven ground in a way which defies physics (Rodney would be yelling at it, demanding explanations) straight past them and onto the General’s ship. The not-Jedi approaches somewhat warily, but after the General and Solo hug (Chewbacca breaks the ice first, though), a pat on the back urges him to come aboard too.

* * *

Someone is standing right next to him. All of John’s instincts scream, and he’s reaching for a weapon that he doesn’t have – should have asked for a gun – how can he not have heard them approach?

It’s a … not-Yoda. This one is orange and minus the robes. Still short, though, and wearing some kind of spectacles causing their eyes to magnify. That intense stare is kind of unnerving.

“You are a long way from home,” not-Yoda says, in a sagely voice.

“How do you know?” John asks.

“Your jacket,” not-Yoda points calmly toward the sewn-in tag on his chest, “claims you to be of a ‘U.S. Air Force’. In all of my thousand years I haven’t ever come across this planet.”

John doesn’t blink at the thought of not-Yoda being a thousand years. Wraith live longer than that. Ancients too, if one counts Ascension as a type of living. Hell, Todd is like _ten_ _thousand._ For some reason he’s got a feeling the alien expected him to be somewhat impressed, at least.

Oh! The name tag. “That’s not a planet, that’s the military I’m with. I’m from Atlantis,” he decides to say, because he feels a lot more affinity with the Ancient City in Pegasus than with Earth at this point, and, well, maybe not-Yoda could help him out, find a way back. Given that they’re a thousand years old and all.

“Atlantis? Quite strange,” not-Yoda says. “That name is new to me too. Come, let me see your eyes.”

_Oh-kay._

Will the alien kill him if he doesn’t obey that order? Would it be some kind of cultural breach and deep offence to refuse? He wishes Teyla were here. She’d know how to deal with strange new aliens with strange habits and customs.

Reluctantly, he kneels, but remains tense and ready to jump into action. Not-Yoda adjusts their goggles, making their eyes look even bigger. “Oh,” the alien says, “I’ve seen such eyes before. Yes, you’re indeed a _long_ way from home.”

John clears his throat. “You wouldn’t happen to have a Stargate lying around somewhere?”

* * *

No, Maz Kanata – that’s the orange alien’s name – doesn’t have a Stargate lying around. She’s never even heard of them, and she’s been around awhile. But she’ll look into it, she says. Then she disappears, still so mysterious. John wonders if he’ll ever meet her again. Plus, hey, there’s an alien he’s never heard of, and he’s watched the movies - a lot. Like, _a lot._ (Thank god Rodney hasn’t found out about the reading list. He’d never leave it be.)

Maz urged him to return to D’Qar with the rest of the Resistance. And he’s got nothing better to do. Plus, the General says there’s food.

He hasn’t eaten a decent meal since before the mission to PX-whatever. God, he could eat an MRE without complaint at this point.

* * *

When they land on D’Qar for a second time that day, John’s X-Wing is parked next to Poe’s, and from up in the open cockpit he has a perfect viewpoint of the following scene:

The not-Jedi and Poe are running toward each other. Very Romeo and Juliet. Not that John can blame them, because, hey, they’re both pretty hot. Not that Rodney needs to know that detail.

“Finn!”

“Poe!”

That embrace is very ardently warm, and BB-8 is looking between them almost confused, constantly turning its round head this way and that as if judging them. Kind of like a dog, yeah, and now it’s deciding whether this not-Jedi is good enough for their Poe.

Wait – Finn? Ah, so _that’s_ the Stormtrooper that got Poe off the ship that made them crash on Jakku in the first place. Now everything makes much more sense.

Why has he got a lightsaber, though? Jedi-in-disguise-posing-as-Stormtrooper?

“You’re wearing my jacket,” Poe is saying, and Finn immediately starts to shrug it off. Hey, are they going to have hot sex right here on the runway? John starts to climb out of the cockpit. That’s just something he does not need to see, ever.

“No, no, keep it,” Poe amends, softly, smiling. “It suits you.”

Poor Finn looks so utterly confused; John shakes his head. They really need to get a room, those two.

And, honestly, what’s up with these people and jackets?

* * *

They have food in a mess hall which is much like the commissary back in the City, though less pretty and more retro 70s with a lot of steel and concrete. The food is mostly bland, but still _alien spacefood_ and John eats greedily.

Poe is staring at him. “Another galaxy?”

“Yup.”

“And your galaxy is full of these Wraith who kill humans by _sucking their life out of them_ with their hands?”

“Yup.”

“And you can fly this City _… in another galaxy_ … with you _mind_?”

“Yup.”

Finn – eating with gusto (apparently he’s been raised on ration cubes which are sort of like grey little sugar cubes with no sugar and no taste and only a carefully balanced set of vitamins and shit) – nearly drops his spoon.

“With your mind? You’re a Jedi?”

“What? No, no.” _I wish,_ John mentally adds, glumly. “I’m just a normal guy from Atlantis.”

Sitting next to the table in vivid conversation with BB-8 about something (could be technobabble or the latest Resistance gossip), R9-D1 whirls its blue dome around in a circle and whistles angrily. He’s not quite sure if the droid is agreeing or disagreeing with that statement.

* * *

Finn’s friend (girlfriend?), Rey, who saved his ass or something like that and got him and the droid off Jakku, has been kidnapped by the Darth Vader Wannabe. (John saw a holovid. The mask is nowhere near as cool.) Now she’s been taken to a Giant Fucking Death Star which is called Starkiller Base. _Starkiller_ Base.

Honestly, who names these things?

Anyway, there’s a big-ass spacegun the size of a planet – technically it _is_ a planet - and they’ve got to blow it up before the Republic is destroyed.

John, naturally, volunteers his services as a pilot.

* * *

Flying with R9-D1 is a given, the little droid as keen as ever. The X-Wing has no name, only a serial number, a long boring harangue that John can’t help but memorize.

He’s going to call her Rosie, if only to piss Rodney off once he tells him the story.

Rosie, or Hummingbird. No reason. Just sounds nice. (And the X-Wing purrs so nicely.)

* * *

This fight is no less intense. Because the sun is about to disappear. The whole. fucking. _sun_.

Starkiller all right. Because it _sucks the sun away_ little by little starting with the corona to power the Giant Fucking Spacegun and there are so many layers of _wrong_ that John doesn’t know where to even begin. First off, if the Starkiller _Planet_ – which _is_ a planet, with an ecosystem and everything – maintains its atmosphere and everything even if the sun disappears, there must be some kind of artificial backup or something and that would truly make this thing a technological wonder and momentous achievement. And the orbit, what about the orbit once the sun and its center of gravity is gone?

It’s sucking away the sun. Eating the sun. Sun-eating planet.

_What the holy fuck._

John’s going to ascribe this to Wonky Sci-fi Science and let Rodney weep in despair over the details later.

By the way, the battle is pretty cool. Regular spacebattle in space spaceship-to-spaceship. John counts thirteen kills which is all right, given that he’s piloting an X-Wing which he can’t control as smoothly as a Jumper (yet). Poe goes all Luke Skywalker Destroying the Death Star on them, and John, not about to be outdone by this kid, follows down the trench and R9-D1 is practically _singing_ with joy as they enter the oscillator (which isn’t as sexy as it sounds) to blow it up from inside. This starts a chain reaction reaching all the way to the planet’s core and then there’s a big, big boom.

Can’t save what’s been taken from the decaying sun, but they do save a planet-load of planets. Yes, that is a technical term.

* * *

So, Finn’s friend Rey is going to become a Jedi. Cool. Turns out Rey is a scrawny kid of something like nineteen (at least that’s what it looks like) but she faced down the Darth Vader Wannabe, as did Finn. Now Finn is injured, his back sliced open, and in a coma and Poe is pacing, clearly fucking worried and John urges him to go to the side of his (boy)friend because that’s the right thing to do.

“Hello,” the kid says when they meet.

He heard what they did, placing bombs inside the oscillator after lowering the shields of the Big-Ass Spacegun so the fleet could attack it. “Nice job, kid,” he says.

“Finn mentioned you. John, right? Are you _really_ from another galaxy?”

 “Yeah, unfortunately.”

Then they head toward the meeting room where General Organa is gathering them, and now, after years and years of sleep, R2-D2 blinks to life. Yeah, John had forgotten to mention, because he hadn’t known. Turns out the droid’s been sitting there under the sheet like a piece of forgotten furniture, on stand-by, waiting for … this, apparently.

BB-8 has a piece of a map; R2-D2 has the rest.

John does not point out how small the Known Galaxy appears when shown as a holographic projection over their heads. There’s a line very pointedly leading to some planet where, yeah, Luke Skywalker is hiding out.

John would like to _have_ _words_ because the galaxy almost got itself blown up by a Star-fucking-killer Planet and what did Skywalker do? _Just sat there on his planet watching it all almost go to hell._

* * *

Poe is sitting next to the bed where Finn is resting, heartbeats resonating. Won’t be out of the coma for a while but he’ll be fine, though. Some kind of medical droid is hovering nearby. John nearly walks out of the room, awkwardly backing away, but Poe interrupts.

“Thanks. For – you know.”

“You’re welcome.”

He pointedly doesn’t stare at any clasped hands.

“Hey, next time we’re going to blow up a planet, I’d better bring Rodney,” John blurts. “He’s got a good track record for that.”

Sharply Poe looks up, frowning. “Does he blow up a lot of planets?”

“To be honest, it was just twice. And the three-quarters-of-a-solar-system was _mostly_ an accident ...”

* * *

Han Solo is dead. They all go quiet when the story is told. Rey wipes at her eyes repeatedly, stubbornly trying to keep her voice steady. Solo tried to confront Koly Ren – the Darth Vader Wannabe – and, hey, yeah, that’s his son. His and Leia’s son is a fucking Darth Vader Wannabe and Luke Skywalker is still missing and now Han Solo is dead. (Congrats, Skywalkers, you have the most fucked up families in the history of families. It was bad enough when they killed off Padmé Amidala like that.)

This future is fucked up. John’s starting to like it less and less, even if Rey is kind of cool, and so is Poe, and Finn seems like an all right guy. Because his childhood fantasy version included a Happy Ending, and they’re not even getting a Happy Meal.

Once the celebrations really start, John withdraws because, hey, he might like a party as much as the next guy, but, really, he wants to get back home. Needs to get back home.

He checks out the Millennium Falcon because who wouldn’t when it’s parked _right there_?

And then he finds Chewbacca alone in the cockpit, and almost comes to regret that decision. Unfortunately, R9-D1 keeps trailing after him and onward and bumps right into the Wookie, and John says, awkwardly: “Uh, hi.” And: “I’m sorry.”

The Wookie makes the most mournful sound.

John realizes he left the party still carrying a bottle of alien spacebeer, and offers it like a maker of peace.

For some reason, the Wookie doesn’t throw him off the ship or resort to violence. Instead they end up playing a round of dejarik, which is the awesome holographic spacechess (should’ve brought a protocol droid because he has no idea what Chewbacca is saying when John asks about rules; he improvises), wherein he compliments the Falcon at least once, one pilot to the other, and he makes sure to let the Wookie win. He likes his arms right where they are (i.e. in their sockets).

Day passes into night.

* * *

If he ever comes eye-to-eye with the Darth Vader Wannabe, he knows just what to say. Because you _don’t_ kill off someone’s childhood hero without issue.

_‘Hello. My name is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. You killed Han Solo. Prepare to die.’_

But, it turns out, John never has to actually say any of this.

* * *

John spends three days on D’Qar, befriending several of Poe’s piloting friends and while Poe himself is busy befriending his ex-Stormtrooper (boy)friend. They share stories and flying tips and tricks. Someone’s parents were part of the Rebellion and he gets to hear several retold first-hand accounts of events and he bites his tongue to refrain from mentioning words like ‘movies’, ‘George Lucas’, or ‘the Wilhelm Scream’ (because he’s pretty sure he heard the latter at least once over the comms during the Battle of Starkilled Base (as it’s been named)). He eats spacefood and decides that the chefs in the City do a _much_ better job even if this tops MREs by a mile. R9-D1 follows him around relentlessly, and it’s actually pretty cool.

One of the pilots, Jessika “Jess” Pava, from Blue Squadron – Blue Five during the Battle of Takodana – tries to teach him how to understand Binary, which is the beeping language of droids. It doesn’t go so well, so they get him a datapad with a mic to automatically transcribe and translate. The datapad has other functions too, including a game much like Snake except in space. (There’s a stylus too, for writing, and John totally does not find a way to make General Organa sign the pad with her autograph under the guise of filling out a Very Important Form For Essential X-Wing Repairs.)

He ends up hanging out with Jess since Poe is Busy, and she shows him around the base and talks about past missions and he talks about his team’s various escapades and close escapes. Nice to have a whole bunch of actual pilots to talk to, for a change, not just the marines in the City - not that they’re bad marines. Just, they’re not pilots. Even if these aren’t Air Force, either. Have no idea what a chopper is. He lays out the details of a Black Hawk, and Jess explains the intricacies of a Quadjumper.

He plays another game of dejarik with Chewbacca which he Does Not Win, before the Wookie is about to set off toward Luke Skywalker, this time with Rey to pilot the Falcon. Turns out she’s handy at both flying _and_ fighting. John’s sure she’ll make an awesome Jedi. She’s got the lightsaber and everything. They take R2-D2 and the Falcon, and John stands to the side along with General Organa (not Poe; he refuses to leave Finn’s side), seeing them off. People waving hands and flags.

The Millennium Falcon rises through the clouds of D’Qar and disappears with the promise of returning with Luke Skywalker in tow, one way or another.

* * *

And soon enough a small ship enters atmosphere. A sentry almost cries wolf, but it turns out not to be the First Order or pirates, but a single alien in a hastily borrowed craft which clearly has seen better days.

In the ship’s cargo hold, Maz Kanata has brought a Stargate.

It’s sort of a Stargate, anyway. Right size but the chevrons are different and so is the overall design. Somewhat cruder, simpler. Also no sign of a DHD. But John knows, feels, instinctively, that that’s a Gate, and the naquadah frame makes that distinct sound as he knocks on the frame. A prototype?1 

When asking how and where she got her hands on it, Maz smiles mysteriously. “A good question, for another time.”

“There’s no dialing device,” John points out. “That’s usually the power source.”

“I know of a place with a dying sun. It might suffice,” Maz says, and John clicks his teeth shut.

Right. Dying sun. That might … _might_ work.

He’s almost afraid of running the numbers only to come to the conclusion that it _won’t_ work and he’ll be stranded in a Galaxy Far, Far Away for the rest of his life, and it won’t be funny anymore.

* * *

“You’re leaving?” Poe asks, distracted. Finn hasn’t woken up yet.

“Yeah. I found a Stargate. Well, Maz found it. I ought to buy her some beer as a Thank You. And once I’m on the other side, I doubt I can come back.” ( _Or want to_ , but he leaves that part out, out of politeness. Hanging around Teyla has taught him _something_ about tact.)

“Nice flying, earlier.”

“Ditto.”

“Just one thing,” John says before he goes, hesitating on the threshold. This future’s all fucked up, but there should be good things too. “Once he’s awake, ask him on a date. Trust me.”

Poe actually honest-to-god blushes. Oh, he’s _whipped._

* * *

With the datapad with the not-autograph shoved in a pack slung over his shoulder, and his jacket zipped up, John says goodbye to General Organa, and thanks her for letting him stick around. He offers soft condolences about Solo, and very carefully doesn’t mention the Darth Vader Wannabe in any way or form.

“Just want to say I’m a big fan, General.”

She smiles, as if resisting the urge to hug and pat his head. Which he can deal with, he supposes, since she’s as old as his grandmother. And she is, after all, the most awesome spaceprincess who he wanted to meet (and possibly become) as a twelve-year-old.

“Good luck.”

* * *

R9-D1 refuses to let go. It trails after him like a puppy.

John’s not that much of a dog person, but he’s willing to make an exception.

* * *

Maz’ cargo ship is an old Neimoidian vessel that she’s loaned from whoever’s cousin of whoever, under the term that the ship is returned in prime condition. To John’s indignation, Maz refuses to let him at the controls. She’s the pilot in this instance. She guides the ship to the non-existent ruins of Starkiller Base – there’s nothing, not even a black hole – and toward the star. Some seventy percent of it is already gone, irredeemably so, and he’s going to take the rest of it to power a wormhole to Atlantis. It’ll be a one-way trip and work only once.

“This is a rogue star,” Maz explains, “which is why the First Order chose to use it for their weapon.”

He’s got a sinking feeling in his gut, thinking about that. “They’re still out there.”

And somehow he feels bad for wanting so badly to leave this behind and return home. These people aren’t out of the woods yet. Nowhere close.

“Yes,” Maz says gravelly. “But the Jedi will return, and the Force will be at balance.” Then she halts the ship, hovering it there right on the edge, and walks out of the cockpit to the Stargate.

The thing is hooked up to hundreds of wires and machinery and it looks sort of Frankenstein and not at all safe or reassuring.

“So. What do I do now?”

Still no DHD.

If she goes all _Use the Force_ on him, he’ll – okay, he has _no idea_ what to do then.

Of course, she says: “The Force will help us.”

Because that always works out.

* * *

It works out. Somehow. They get the dying sun to power the Gate. The sun will implode, but Maz assures him that she’ll get the cargo ship out of the way before that.

Great. He’s gone from Atlantis for a few days and helps to blow up one (1) planet and one (1) sun. Rodney will have a field day teasing him mercilessly, since John still hasn’t let go the whole thing about the three-quarters-of-a-solar-system, and Teyla will be disapproving, and Ronon will be impressed. Hopefully. It won’t look too good on the report, but maybe they’ll take it easy on him since, y’know, wrong galaxy and all that.

John almost wishes he could bring an X-Wing with him. And he does feel a bit bad about not getting a chance to show Poe Jumper One.

The wormhole forms, as if with a thought. Maybe it _is_ with a thought. John is losing his grip of science as well as reality. The shimmering blue swirls outward into the familiar kawoosh effect before it settles. Readings coming back green. Good to go.

The road back home. _Thank-fucking-finally._

“Thanks, for everything,” he says, but Maz only responds with: “I may not be a Jedi, but I know the Force. It’s safe to step through. They can’t open an iris. Now, go, before the sun is gone. Once you’re through, I will keep the Stargate hidden. The last thing we want is for the First Order to get their dirty hands on it.”

_That makes sense._

Then he takes a breath, and walks open-eyed into the wormhole.

* * *

 

 

* * *

Rodney and Teyla and Ronon are gathered in front of the Gate, and half a dozen marines, who all lower their weapons in surprise as John steps through, safe and sound. The Gate shuts down behind him, silently. Rodney is upon him at once, shouting, arms waving, so familiarly.

“You’re alive! We were pretty sure you were dead! I can’t believe you let us think you were dead, you - you -”

And Rodney stops and _stares_ at him, and then at R9-D1 at his feet. Up and down. A number of times. Got to give him a headache and crick in the neck. Can’t be comfortable.

The droid chirps cheerfully, blue dome twirling like a dance to let its optics take in the Gate Room and if R9-D1 could, it would probably widen its eyes and gasp in wonder at the Ancient City. John thinks it means to say _Hello_. Or possibly _You’re rude/Stop staring/Typical humans!_

“Where the hell did you get a robot?! And why are you wearing all red - and that _helmet_?” Rodney splutters, and John can’t get in a word in edgewise. “It looks ridiculous. Hang on – is that – no way. **No way**.”

“Yes. Yes. And yes, it is.”

“I can’t believe it. Four days, you’re gone, _four days_ – do you have _any idea_ what you’ve caused – and you’ve been to ... !”

John lets him rant, walking toward the infirmary so the docs can check him out and give him a clean bill of health, and he doesn’t mind that Ronon and Teyla stray close. He keeps smiling the whole way.

All is right with the world.

* * *

 _If Step 2 ends up being a huge failure, see Step 1 and revise._ _Step 1 (alternative):_ Don’t go through the damned Gate.

**Author's Note:**

> _1\. What I’m describing here are the kind of Gates we see in SGU. How did it end up here? Maybe a Seeder ship got lost ...?_


End file.
